Holi-Dixie
by SaraiEsq
Summary: A series of sketches featuring Dixie at the holidays
1. Muse

'Twas the week before Christmas  
And here comes my muse  
With stories of Dixie  
She's sure will amuse.

Flexing fingers over worn keys,  
I say with a smile:  
"This looks good; let's get started.  
"It's sure been a while."

"You have fun, I'll be back soon,"  
Says the muse in my ear.  
"I've got tickets to Tahoe,  
"Until the new year."

With the muse off on her skis  
(And dogs on a nap),  
I dust off all my brain cells  
And follow her map...

 _Hopefully I'll be able to read her hieroglyphics and get some of these stories out before next Christmas._


	2. O Glittr'y Brice

Chapter 1: O Glitt'ry Brice

=+++= / +====

"Brice! Watch out!"

Dixie's shout came a moment too late as a runaway supply cart careened down the corridor and barreled into Craig Brice, knocking him sideways into the Christmas tree near the emergency room entrance. Brice, caught in the tree's piney embrace, went one way while the neat stack of supplies he had been carrying out to the squad went the other. Bags of D5W slid across the newly polished floor and into the boots of Captain Hank Stanley who had just entered.

"Are you alright, Craig?" Hank asked at once, striding over and lifting the compact tree from the paramedic. A few dozen glitter-covered ornaments, detached from the tree by the impact, huddled on the linoleum around Brice while a piece of blue tinsel garland draped itself over his glasses.

"I'm fine, Captain," he replied formally, removing the tinsel before accepting Hank's hand up from the floor.

"Let's have a look at you anyway," Dixie said, taking him by the arm and leading him into Treatment 1. "Those Christmas trees can be vicious."

=+++= / ++===

A few moments later, a dark-skinned nurse stuck her head into Treatment 1. "Captain Stanley said you needed me, Dixie?"

"Yes, Carol," she replied. "Craig here took a tumble into that Christmas tree – ."

"I wondered who it was this time."

" – and he needs to be checked out. Can you get his BP for me?"

"I'm fine, Nurse McCall."

"Hush," Dixie said sternly, frowning at the man until he subsided. "Anything broken out there?"

"No, those new ornaments from Pediatrics are holding up well this year," Carol replied with a smile, noting traces of the tree-paramedic collision on Brice's uniform. "George and Captain Stanley are putting the tree back up now. And, BP's normal."

"Good. This scratch could do with a bandage but otherwise I think you'll be fine, Craig."

"Thank you, Miss McCall. I appreciate it."

=+++= / +++==

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" Carol asked quietly.

"Absolutely not." Amusement curved a smile onto Dixie McCall's face as she noticed how the lights from an arriving ambulance created a bright glow around the departing form of Craig Brice.

"How long do you think it will be before he notices?"

"Given it's mainly on his, uh, posterior, it may be a while."

"The real question, Carol," Hank Stanley said conspiratorially, "is how long will it take for him to get it all off once he _does_ notice it. My wife says glitter is the absolute worst!"


	3. Code I-Don't-Think-So

Chapter 2: Code I-Don't-Think-So

=+++= / +====

"Roy! What happened to you?"

"It's nothing, Dix, really," the off-duty paramedic responded calmly, but wisely did not resist Nurse McCall's steady pull toward the treatment room.

The fire department mechanic trailed behind them anxiously, elf hat askew. "It's my fault," Charlie blurted suddenly as Dixie began to examine Roy's arm. "See, I asked Roy to come over and help with my train set – ."

"Wait a minute," Dixie said sharply. "What is this?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"This," she replied, pointing one sculptured nail at the black strips adorning the makeshift bandage. "This right here."

"Electrical tape, of course."

"And what is _electrical tape_ doing on Roy?"

"Dix – ," the victim of objectionable adhesion began, hoping the head nurse would not unduly annoy the department mechanic which could result in unpleasant consequences for the fire station.

"You hush. And _you_ , out."

=+++= / ++===

"Doc, I only put the electrical tape on to keep the handkerchief in place 'til I could get DeSoto in here," Charlie explained earnestly in the hallway where he had been banished. "It didn't even touch his skin."

Kel Brackett's eyebrows scrunched together expressively. "Why didn't you use the tape from your first aid kit?"

"We, uh, didn't have any with us anymore."

"I see. Anything else … nonstandard … I should know about before I go in there?"

"Well, I, uh, used zip ties to secure the splint." Charlie fumbled in his pocket for a pair of wire cutters. "Which reminds me: you may need these to get them off."

"Thanks," Dr. Brackett said, taking the red-handled tool somewhat gingerly, given the smudges of grease on it. "You'd better wait here until I, uh, check with Di –."

"Kel," Dixie said, sticking her head out the door. "You've got to see this – ."

"I know: electrical tape and zip ties."

"Not just zip ties," she replied, shooting a look at Charlie, "but _wrenches_."

=+++= / +++==

"I can't believe a miniature train set did all this damage, Roy," Dixie said as she assisted Kel in cleaning up the gash on the paramedic's – fortunately – unbroken arm. The bruises might be impressive in a day or two but there would be no lasting harm.

"It wasn't a toy train, Dix," Roy explained, putting his hands about six inches apart, then stretching the uninjured arm wide. "It's a grand scale railway, one people can ride on. Charlie opens it up every year during the holidays, dresses up like an elf, the whole nine yards. The kids in the neighborhood get a real kick out of it."

"Oh." A light tinge of pink bloomed in Dixie's cheeks.

"So, how _did_ this happen?" Brackett asked.

"Charlie had been having some problems with one of the cars; it tended to slip the track in this one place. While we were working on it, some of the neighbor kids came over to watch. One of them jumped on the car; it rocked forward and then came off the jack."

"And caught your arm?" Brackett finished for him.

"Well, not exactly. Charlie had cribbed most of it already so it fell only a few inches. I just happened to be in those few inches."

"I still can't understand why Charlie used," Dixie said, waving her hand expressively at the wrenches, zip ties, handkerchief and bits of black electrical tape clustered next to Roy, " _this_ instead of regular first aid supplies."

"Uh, well, uh, it was, uhm, like this – ."

=+++= / ++++=

Dixie eyed the downcast form of the mechanic on the other side of the hallway for a moment before clearing her throat. "Hi."

"Nurse McCall, how's Roy?" Charlie asked anxiously, looking up. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"He'll be fine, Charlie," Dixie said, smiling. "No breaks just some bruising. And, I believe these are yours?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking the wrenches, wire cutters and neatly folded handkerchief from her and methodically tucking them into various pockets. "About usin' these: I really didn't have anythin' else at hand –."

"Roy explained everything. You know, that really was a good bit of improvisational first aid," she admitted, adding, "I didn't know you liked kittens so much though."

"Kittens?" Charlie's relieved and beaming face morphed to a confused jumble.

"Roy said you used all the medical tape on your 'little cat' yesterday."

"Oh, he meant the bulldozer. It's a Cat." At her blank look, he added, "You know, a Caterpillar."

"You used medical tape on a bulldozer?" Dixie exclaimed in an outraged voice. "What's next? IVs for ladder trucks and defibrillators for fire engines?"

Behind the partially closed door to the treatment room, a now-properly-bandaged Roy grinned despite the likely fallout – and made a discrete exit through the other room.


	4. Code I-Don't-Think-So-Either

Chapter 3: Code I-Don't-Think-So-Either

=+++= / +====

"Gil, you're doing it all wrong."

"Look, I know what I'm doing, Johnny. I've done this a few times before you know."

"I'm still senior to you in this. And you need to be more careful or –." The thump of the broken limb against the table interrupted Johnny's admonition.

"Uh, medic?" Gil called, drawing Dixie's attention toward the suddenly dismayed paramedics.

"What's going on, guys?"

"It was an accident. I think his arm is broken."

Dixie peered down at the figure, noting his still-smiling face. "I think you're right."

"Does this qualify as a Code I?"

"Uh, I don't think so."

"Why not, Dixie? He's a fireman," protested Gil.

"That's right. He's got a fire helmet and everything. And he was on scene at the time of the incident," Johnny added, pointing out the burns on the house.

"He's a gingerbread fireman, Gil," Dixie said firmly. "And just because your gingerbread house is a bit burnt, Johnny, doesn't mean it's a fire scene."

"So, if he's not a Code I, what is he?" Gil asked, watching as she picked up the broken gingerbread pieces.

"I'd say a Code D," Dixie said with a smile after sampling the cookie.

"Code D, Dix?"

"Delicious, Johnny, delicious."

=+++= / =+++=


	5. From the Past to the Future

**Chapter 4**

 **From the Past to the Future: A Christmas Present**

=+++= / +==== / +====

The holiday party at Dixie's was in full swing when the last of the boys from 51s arrived and made their way to their hostess, smiling wives in tow.

"How are you, Miss McCall?" Mike Stoker greeted her warmly, thinking how good she still looked.

"I'm fine, Mike, but ah, you know better than that," Dixie responded with a smile.

"Oh?" asked Hank Stanley, sensing a story.

=+++= / ++=== / +====

 _(A few years ago)_

Helmet uncharacteristically askew, the tall fireman made his way into the tent, holding the arm of another firefighter who moved stiffly. The white stripe on the latter's helmet indicated he was a fire captain but the other, younger man was clearly in charge at the moment.

The blonde nurse stepped forward before he had a chance to speak. "I'm Nurse McCall. What seems to be the problem," she asked, glancing at his nametag and insignia then smoothly returning her blue eyes to his, "Specialist Stoker?"

"Cap needs – ," Mike Stoker began.

"I just got a little cold and fell," Dick Hammer said, interrupting his engineer brusquely. "N-nothing to worry about-t." A tremor ran over his body, belying his assertion that his return to full health was imminent and prompting Dixie to roll her eyes at the apparently innate stubbornness of firemen.

"Bring him over here," Dixie commanded and led the way to one of a half-dozen curtained off areas nearby. "Help me get these wet clothes off of him," she directed as Mike settled the shivering fire captain on the portable exam table.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, helping her peel the sodden clothing from Hammer and replace it with the dry one-size-fits-all garment at hand. The space heater in the cubicle, now running at full-blast, prompted Stoker to remove his own coat and helmet as well, soaking up the warmth so absent from the mass casualty incident outside.

A wealthy philanthropist had created a narrow gauge railway that conveyed passengers through a private park and onto a small islet in a lake, both of which were lavishly decorated with seasonal light displays. When the train returned from circling the island, guests could enjoy themselves at a winter-themed carnival in the park for a few hours each night from Thanksgiving on into the New Year.

This evening, the festivities had been disrupted when a delivery truck had crashed into the bridge spanning the narrow channel, weakening the supports dangerously. The alert engineer had stopped the train in time to prevent collapse or derailment. The result, however, was that nearly two hundred people were stranded on the island side of the bridge, albeit safely ensconced in their railcars. The dropping temperatures and rising wind on the lake had combined to thoroughly chill all the fire department personnel involved in transferring the victims to safety via pontoon boats normally used during the summer months.

"How did he get so wet?" Nurse McCall asked as she examined the blanket-covered captain. She checked his extremities, noting his pale waxy skin along with relatively minor scrapes and bruises from his fall. With a frown, she listened to Hammer's lungs a second time.

"He went into the water when the pontoon boat clipped the dock on the island," Stoker replied succinctly, forbearing to mention that Hammer had pulled three victims from the shallow water before wading back to dry land.

"Was anyone hurt this time?" she asked, surprised there had been a second incident. Hiccups and miscues could happen at any scene, especially a large-scale incident like this, but once a problem was identified, the Los Angeles County Fire Department usually didn't let it happen again. Four civilians and one firefighter had been checked out after the collision which, Dixie recalled, had happened just after operations had begun in earnest.

"This time, ma'am?" Mike asked in a puzzled tone which alerted her to the reality of the situation.

"Are you telling me he went into the water _two hours ago_ and is just _now_ getting in here?" she demanded. Hammer's sudden coughing fit interrupted her, much to Stoker's relief.

=+++= / ++===/ ++===

"You're out of that new station in Carson, aren't you?" Dixie asked, knowing the answer but hoping to distract the worried firefighter. Captain Hammer would be out of commission for a while, especially if his stubborn heroics resulted in pneumonia. Mike's dogged persistence when he realized Dick's fall was a symptom of something more serious than tired feet had probably spared him that, but only time would tell. If he'd not acted when he did, the result for Dick Hammer could have been much worse.

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, tearing his eyes from the sight of his captain being carted off to an ambulance and turning back to Nurse McCall. "Station 51."

"You've got paramedics assigned to that station, don't you?"

"Yes, Miss McCall." After a moment, the still-new names came back to the engineer. "Page, er, Gage and DeSoto are on the A shift with me."

"You'd better call me Dixie, then. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the future."

=+++= / +==== / ++===

"And, I was right, wasn't I, _Captain_ Stoker?"

"Yes, Dixie," Mike responded demurely although his blue eyes twinkled.

"Bet Dickie chewed you out when he came back to duty," Hank said, clapping a hand on his former engineer's shoulder and chuckling at Mike's expression at the mention of _that_ conversation.

"You could say that," Stoker muttered, reddening as he remembered the man's rather, uhm, energetic lecture about questioning the judgment of one's captain. Hammer had concluded with the then-surprising words: _Keep up the good work – and next time, don't wait so long._

"And what are you laughing about, _Battalion Chief_ Stanley?" Dixie demanded in amusement. "I seem to recall you have some experience in that area, too."

"Oh?" asked Mike, grin widening as Hank's chuckle turned to chagrin.

=+++= / +++== / +====

 _(And a few more years back)_

The gangly fireman, whose helmet proclaimed he was with Station 8, firmly guided his blue-eyed fire captain to the aid station. Tom McConnikee had submitted to his engineer's insistent voice and stumbled where he was led – after a few mumbled protests beside the engine. Now he sank down in the shade of a huge elm tree where the medical corps had set up.

Hank Stanley turned to search for help and found a pretty blonde nurse had already made her way toward him and his incapacitated captain. The military-style scrubs she wore bore the designation MCCALL, RN.

"Heat exhaustion?" she asked in a weary but not unkind voice, pulling out her stethoscope.

"Yes," Hank replied, "I think so, yes." Without being prompted, he helped her remove McConnikee's turnout coat, helmet and other equipment, belatedly realizing he could have taken those off him earlier to cool him. Then he silently watched her work – checking pulse and respirations, evaluating skin temperature and perspiration, murmuring questions to the burly firefighter seated before her. "Will he be okay?" Hank asked once the man had been supplied with water and cooling measures had been initiated by the volunteer the nurse had signaled.

"I'll be fine," the captain responded in a slightly slurred voice from under the cool wet towel draped over his head. "Don' talk 'bout me like I'm not here."

"Sorry, Cap," he responded automatically, but caught the nurse's eyes and raised his eyebrows in renewed inquiry.

"Oh, he'll be alright, I think," the nurse confirmed. "But how are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine," Hank said immediately, turning his head to locate the exit from the roped-off area. "Fine, no problems at all. In fact, I need to get back to the scene – ." The multi-alarm blaze had been burning for nearly twelve hours, a hot fire that devoured two adjacent warehouses packed to the rafters with shredded rubber tires in one case and various kinds of vinyl flooring in the other. It had started in the early summer morning and temperatures had continued to rise as the day progressed. The almost non-existent wind had been a mixed blessing, reducing the chance of embers igniting nearby buildings but denying a cooling breeze to the men working the blaze.

"Let's just check you over to make sure, Fireman, uh, Stanley," Dixie said, peering up to read his nametag. "Come on over here and have a seat." The tone of command in her voice had him moving after her before he realized it.

=+++= / +++== / ++===

"Your captain _will_ be okay," Dixie said a short time later, noticing the engineer's repeated glances toward McConnikee. "He just needs a break and some water. You could do with some more hydration too, it looks like," she continued, handing him another flask of water. "What made you think he was in trouble?"

The engineer took a long drink of the water and, out of the corner of his eye, judged the distance between him and his captain great enough to respond candidly. "He wasn't thinking straight, about the fire, I mean. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, too. And then there was the sweating." He hesitated, taking another sip of the water and wiping his own face again with a wet towel. "Normally, Cap sweats so much that he keeps an extra undershirt in the rig so he can change. This afternoon, well, he wasn't sweating much at all."

"That was a good catch," Nurse McCall said approvingly. "I wish more firemen knew basic first aid like that."

"Cap keeps pushing us to learn it," Hank admitted. "Says it could be critical – ." His last name, bellowed in a familiar fireground voice, interrupted him midsentence. "Sorry, gotta go, Nurse McCall," he said, spying a rejuvenated Captain McConnikee on the move toward him.

"Told you he'd be fine," she replied with a chuckle. "And, it's Dixie."

=+++= / +==== / ++===

"Oh, boy, was that a tongue-lashing to remember," Hank said ruefully. Tom McConnikee hadn't pulled any punches on the way back to the scene, although he'd obliquely thanked Hank a few shifts later when the crew had been going through their first aid training again. _You picked up on that the other day, didn't you, Hank?_ _And_ _took the appropriate action._

"We heard most of it, I think," Dixie admitted. "He had a big voice when he wanted to, that's for sure,"

"Still does, if the occasion warrants it," Mike put in with a smile at the thought of his uncle-in-law's antics with the kids just last week.

=+++= / +==== / +++==

The party was nearly at an end when Hank sought out Dixie in the kitchen. "What's up, Hank?" she asked, leaning one hip against the counter.

Stanley looked at his hands sheepishly then, meeting her eyes, said, "I just wanted to say thanks."

"For what?"

"For bringing up that incident with McConnikee tonight. I hadn't thought about it in years."

"The same goes for me," Mike Stoker said, leaning over the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. "I hadn't thought about Dick Hammer in quite a while either." He hesitated. "I think I needed the reminder."

"You too, huh?" Hank said sympathetically.

"Both of you needed it," Dixie declared firmly, drawing startled looks from both of them. "Those were red-letter days for you, whether either of you realized it at the time. And not just because I said you could call me Dixie," she added, waggling her finger at the suddenly smiling firefighters.

"Sounds like enough of a reason to me," Hank said with a chuckle.

"Yup," Mike responded succinctly, flashing a grin.

"Now, I'm serious, guys," Dixie chided. "I know taking risks comes with firefighting and I'm sure you'd both taken a few by then. But, you were taking a different kind of risk this time, maybe for the first time. You were nervous but determined to do the right thing, regardless of the consequences." She paused, catching Hank's eyes then Mike's. "Both of you were. And you both found out that you could do it." Her eyes shifted from one to the other again. "That you _can_ do it, whenever the situation calls for it."

"You know, she's right," Hank said, after a moment of reflection, eliciting a nod from Stoker.

"How did you know that I – ," Mike began, flicking his eyes to Hank.

"We," the other man put in, nodding.

"That _we_ needed that, those reminders now?"

"Because I've known you, both of you, a good many years." A small silence settled over the three as they each remembered some of those good many years. Dixie shook off the nostalgia first and spoke briskly. "Now you've had your reminders, and you've got your heads back together, so why don't we toast your promotions and your futures with a little more gusto?" She looked up at the men, smiling once more.

"Even better: Here's to knowing you for a good many more years, Dixie!"

"I'll drink to that!"

=+++= / +===+ / =+++=


End file.
